


Prepare for Departure

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not-famous Chris gets seated next to definitely-famous Darren on a cross-country flight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prepare for Departure

Chris almost misses his flight, and it’s definitely not his fault. He’ll happily blame his cab driver, the Starbucks barista that took forever, and the teenage girl in front of him in the security line who couldn’t bring herself to turn her cell phone off and actually get her stuff ready for the bins until she was standing right in front of them.   
  
He’s one of the last people to board, breathing hard and heart still racing. He has to fumble to look at his ticket again to even see what seat he’s in.   
  
Middle. Of  fucking course. With his current luck, he’ll be seated between a chatty old man and a crying baby or something.   
  
… or not.   
  
Maybe this is the universe trying to make it up to him, because his seatmate is Darren  Criss. 

He’s pretty sure the ground could drop out from underneath him and he wouldn’t notice. The person behind him bumps into him and he stumbles forward.   
  
Darren looks up.  _Darren Criss_ looks up, right at him.   
  
And smiles.   
  
Chris shoves his backpack into the overhead bin and steps into the row. He realizes then that Darren is actually in his seat. “Uh - uhm. My... uh. Seat.”    
  
Well, that could have gone better.   
  
“What? Oh - shit, you’re right. Dude, sorry.” Darren gets up and they shuffle around, which includes a glorious second of full body contact as Chris steps past him.   
  
Darren goes back to texting, and doesn’t look up from his phone until the flight attendants are waving emphatically about emergency situations. Chris sends a couple of texts of his own - okay, fine, just to his mother to let her know that he did make it.  
  
His foot taps restlessly as he waits for the plane to take off. His mind is racing. Darren Criss is less than a foot away from him.   
  
Chris has ever song Darren’s ever done, including a whole playlist full of audio files that were ripped from concert videos on youtube. He knows the lyrics to every single one of them.   
  
Darren Criss is sitting beside him, wearing hipster glasses and a green henley and jeans, looking delicious and scruffy and Ashley is  _never_ going to believe this.   
  
If he even tells her. He’s not sure if he’d be able to endure the teasing. God, his cell phone lock screen was Darren’s latest album cover for almost a year. He’s really, really glad he changed it to a picture of his cat eventually.  
  
Then Darren turns to him. “So, wow, I’m an asshole. I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Darren.”   
  
“I know,” Chris says. It’s not really the smoothest response ever, but Darren just grins.   
  
“Oh, wow. Sweet. Music fan?” Darren asks. “I forgot my fucking ipod, can’t believe it.”   
  
Chris winces sympathetically. He can’t imagine a flight without his. “That sucks.”   
  
“So, yeah. New York?” He asks.   
  
Is  _Darren Criss_ trying to have a conversation with him?   
  
“Yeah, I’m meeting some friends there.” Chris knows he sounds excited. “I’ve never been. This is the first real vacation I’ve taken.”  
  
He has no idea why his brain has chosen to share  _that_ . He’s only three years younger than Darren, but right now it feels like a lot more. Darren’s going to think he’s a kid or something.   
  
Except that he doesn’t.    
  
“Oh, you’re gonna love it. I was totally planning on moving there before I landed a decent job. You have to see some plays. Or, like. Every play.” Darren’s grin is wide and infectious.  
  
“Oh?”   
  
That breathless feeling is back, and it doesn’t leave him for the rest of the flight.   
  
*   
  
By the time the captain announces they’re beginning their descent, Chris is pretty sure he’s in love.   
  
He’s never been disappointed for a flight to be over before, but he’s also never had one like this. He hasn’t even touched his ipod. He’s spent the entire six hours talking to Darren. There’s a desperate sort of clawing in his chest for this to not be over yet. He needs to make sure he’s memorized every time he’s made Darren’s eyes crinkle up with laughter or every time Darren’s hand covered his or closed around his wrist when the conversation turned to more serious things.   
  
It’s not even just that Darren is famous, or gorgeous. No one in Chris’s  _life_ has ever looked at him like they genuinely wanted to know everything about him.   
  
If this were anyone else, Chris would ask for their number. He doesn’t know if Darren is gay, but he’s heard the rumors... and even if Darren isn’t, he still would want to keep in touch.   
  
But Darren  _is_ famous and Chris is pretty sure he gets hit up for his number at least a dozen times a day and Chris can’t bring himself to being resigned to one of the many.   
  
If he just leaves it like this, he’ll be a footnote but hopefully a positive one. That guy that Darren sat next to on a flight once and had some great conversations with.   
  
“Ahhh, the climactic end of our journey.” Darren stretches, arms raising above his head until his knuckles bump the top by the little light knobs. His shirt rises up to show a couple of inches of tummy and Chris definitely stares before he can stop himself.   
  
Darren is smirking a little when Chris catches himself. Chris bites back the urge to apologize, but Darren’s hand comes down beside his on the little armrest. Their forearms touch all the way up and Chris feels like his breath has been stolen away.   
  
“How long did you say you were in New York for?” Darren leans in to ask over the growing rumble of people moving around.   
  
“A week,” Chris answers. His mouth goes dry, because he can’t be  sure of where this is leading but he can definitely hope.   
  
“Sweet. I was wondering-” Darren starts, but doesn’t get to finish his sentence.   
  
A woman walks up to him and sheepishly asks for an autograph for her daughter. Darren not only signs a scrap of paper for her but has Chris take a picture for her on the woman’s cell phone.   
  
Chris has a ridiculous wish that he could do that, too, but it sort of goes against trying to play it cool. He really hopes Darren will finish what he’d been able to say, but everyone around them is standing up and they’re near the front of the plane, so they have to grab their things and go.   
  
*   
  
There’s a hollow feeling in his chest as he waits by baggage claim. He’d hoped that he’d see Darren again but he’d sort of disappeared once they’d hit the boarding area. Chris had even hung around the entrance to the nearest bathroom trying to look like he was casually making a call just to see if Darren had maybe gone in there.   
  
Chris sends off a couple of texts to let people know that he’s arrived and waits, ignoring the crushing disappointment and choosing instead to replay some of the better parts of the conversations they’d had in his mind.   
  
The carousel whirs to life and Chris gets to his feet to go look for his suitcase. He’s manages to slip his way almost to the front, close enough to wrestle his bag off, and he’s walking away when a voice calls his name.   
  
“Chris!” Darren is jogging toward him. “Fuck, I thought I’d miss you. I had to call my manager like, as  soon as I landed or he’d have a coronary, and then you were gone.”   
  
“Darren?” His smile is disbelieving.   
  
“Yeah, um. I was gonna ask you on the plane - do you maybe want to hang out while we’re both in New York or something?” Darren rubs his hand over the thigh of his jeans, almost like he’s nervous.   
  
“I... I’d love to.” Chris knows his voice is embarrassingly high right now. He doesn’t even care, because Darren’s face lights up.   
  
“Here, give me your number.” Darren thrusts his phone toward Chris. Chris’s fingers shake as he programs his information in. He hands the phone back and Darren grins, lifting it up. “Say cheese.”   
  
Chris is sure the photo will be absolutely awful, but he doesn’t care, because his  picture is going to be in Darren Criss’s phone.   
  
“Um, I’m about to be a dork, come here.” Darren grabs him and tugs him over, putting his arm low around Chris’s waist. He leans in so that their cheeks touch (fuck, the bristly stubble is so nice against his skin that Chris almost gets hard just from that) and then takes a picture of both of them. His arm squeezes around Chris and his fingers clench briefly in the material of Chris’s jacket before he lets go. “Awesome. Perfect. Okay, I gotta run, but - oh! I’m playing this little gig tonight if you want to come. But, that’s not like - that doesn’t count. As hanging out. But you can still come if you want..”  
  
“I want,” Chris says immediately. His heart is absolutely pounding.   
  
Darren’s smile gets even wider. “I’ll put your name on the list. Shit - that’s my manager again, Who the fuck taught that asshole how to text, seriously. Okay, I’ll see you tonight, I hope? Bye, Chris.”   
  
“Bye...” Chris doesn’t move from the spot because Darren is walking away but he walks away backwards until he almost stumbles into a pole, then turns around while he’s still laughing at himself.   
  
When he finally manages to uproot himself from the spot, Chris starts walking to where he’s meeting Ashley. He’s halfway there when his phone buzzes.   
  
Darren has texted him the picture of the two of them with a message:  _Just an FYI Chris Colfer... you’ve ruined all future flights for me. See you tonight. :)_

*

Ashley doesn’t believe him. No one does, until they show up at the little club and his name is on the list.  
  
(He’s not sure why he doesn’t just show her the picture, especially considering he pulls it up approximately every five minutes to look at it.)  
  
The opening act is already on when they get there, so they claim a little table and order drinks. Chris sort of wishes they weren’t so close to the stage, but it’s worth it when Darren spots him and gives him a little wave.  
  
That’s when Ashley starts the chant of, _“Hit it, hit it, hit it_.”  
  
She doesn’t stop for hours.

*  
When Darren’s set is over, Chris gets up to leave but one of the waitresses comes over to him. “Sir, Mr. Criss asked if you’d wait for him, he wanted to speak to you.”

Chris feels like his face is on fire when she walks away.

“Okay, we are gonna scram, but you-” Ashley pokes him in the chest. “Don’t forget what I said. _Hit it_.”

*

“Hey, you waited!” Darren is out of breath, sweaty and rumpled and every wet dream Chris has ever had when he walks up. His curls are sticking to his forehead and he still hasn’t shaved so there’s thickly grown stubble on his face and his eyes are shining brightly. “Awesome.”

“Well, you asked me to.” Chris is sitting at the bar now. He can’t exactly believe Darren has just walked up to him. He can see three scantily clad girls giggling in their direction, staring at Darren and whispering between themselves. “You have admirers.”

Darren glances over his shoulder and spots the girls, then waves and flashes them a smile. “Uh. That happens when you’re a sexy motherfucker like me..”

Chris looks at him incredulously.

“Oh. Wow. That was a total douchebag thing to say, wasn’t it?” Darren’s words are undercut by his smirk. “But it’s true.”

“Are you drunk?” Chris laughs.

“Um. Little bit.” Darren holds his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “And I’m also fishing for compliments, which you are disappointingly unwilling to accommodate, I see.”

He’d been a nervous wreck on the plane at first, and again after... but this feels different. Darren is leaning in toward him, flirting blatantly, in a smoky room with dim lights and soft music playing. The entire tone of the moment is different and it gives Chris the boldness to respond, “I don’t think you need me to tell you that you’re sexy.”

Darren rests a hand on Chris’s elbow. “Need? No. Want...”

Chris just smiles back.

“Fine, play hard to get. I like a challenge.”

Darren wants to get him. Darren Criss... wants to get him. Fuck playing it cool, his time Chris can’t hide his smile. “Oh yeah?”

Darren’s fingers glide down his arm, brushing back and forth over the hair there. Down, down, down, until his fingers are almost on top of Chris’s. “I’ve got stuff all day tomorrow, but are you free for lunch on Wednesday?”

“Probably,” Chris says. “I can check.”

“Well, I would be...” Darren clears his throat. “I would be eternally grateful if you bestowed upon me your company for dining.”

Chris uses the hand not trapped under Darren’s to hit Darren in the shoulder. “You are a dork.”

“I know, I’m killing the whole pr facade they built up, aren’t I?”

“No. I like it.” He lets his hand just rest there. Darren’s t-shirt is kind of damp and with anyone else Chris would find it gross, but right now it’s just kind of hot. His fingers stroke little circles along his collarbone.

Darren suddenly looks a little more flushed. Chris really wants to hope that it isn’t the alcohol.

“So you were here with some people, weren’t you? Did you friends abandon you?” Darren asks.

“They headed back to the hotel room. I think they were tired... they both flew in today, too.” Chris explains.

“And you’re not tired? Because I’m fucking starving, if you want we could grab some food... my treat?” Darren asks.

Chris lets his hand fall away. Does Darren really think he’s going to turn down the chance to spend even more time with him? “I could eat,” he says, smiling.

*

Darren apparently wants pizza.

Chris hangs by while Darren argues with his manager about whether or not it’s cool for him to just go wandering the streets. He feels like an eavesdropper even though he was invited into the back room.

Darren finally gets his way but not without some harshly snapped words. He still looks irate when he disappears to change clothes, but when he comes back he’s got his glasses on again, a long coat and a beanie jammed over his curls, and he’s smiling.

He seems to know exactly where he wants to go. Chris follows along, neither of them saying much at first.

Darren is the one that breaks the silence. “My brother lives here. In New York. When I was in college I was like, nine hundred percent sure I’d end up here. I thought I’d be like... one of those guys working a shitty day job and doing off-Broadway when I got lucky enough to get a role and playing in little dives just to get the music out.”

“Sounds like you ended up with a better deal than you anticipated,” Chris says.

Darren shrugs and looks at him. “Oh, this is the place.”

It’s tiny, probably not somewhere Chris would really think to stop on his own. Darren leads them in and they get their pizza and soft drinks and snag one of the tables in a mostly empty corner in the back.

For a couple of minutes they eat in silence. Chris still isn’t over having to give himself reality checks. Darren seems distracted now, though - not the lighthearted flirt he was being earlier.

Darren is halfway done with his pizza when he puts it down and looks at Chris. “So, can I trust you?”

Chris stops mid-chew, because it doesn’t feel like something he should be chewing through. Then again, he can’t exactly talk either, so he swallows the mouthful quickly. “Yes.”

“I think I can. I mean, I guess I can’t really know, since I just met you today, but my gut says yeah. It says I can trust you. So I just-” Darren slumps with his elbows against the table and runs his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes this life sucks. I’m such a prick for thinking it, for saying it, yeah. I get that. So many people would kill to be here, like. In my place. But lately I wake up and I just want out. I’m sick of bullshit people telling me what I can and can’t do.”

In no possible way was Chris prepared for this. He wipes his fingers on a napkin and pushes his plate away. “You don’t have to tell me-”

“No, I want to, okay? Because this kind of thing right here, this is why I want out.” Darren waves a hand between them. He’s gathering steam now so Chris stays quiet and lets him go. “Because I met a cute guy I want to know better and I spend an hour getting ripped a new one by my manager and fucking told, not even asked, that they’re gonna have some date show up to this thing with me tomorrow. You know? I would fucking love to just, sweep you right the fuck off your feet. But instead I had to throw a bitch fit just to let them let me take you out for pizza.”

There are about a million things in there that Chris wants to respond to, but all he can do is smile.

Darren notices him smiling, and then smiles too, sheepishly. “Wow, I just unloaded, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but... it’s fine. I can’t even imagine...” Chris shakes his head. “I guess I never really had the choice of being in to begin with, but I still can’t imagine having to stay in the closet.”

“I’m just at the end of my rope. I don’t want this career if having some label as celebrity means I can’t be me.” Darren runs his fingers through his hair again, a nervous habit. “I’m gonna tell them this week. I’m gonna tell them I’m just... I’m done with it. And I hope I don’t lose the tv gig or get like, stoned to death by my fans or whatever, but if I do...”

“I saw a ‘hiring entertainment’ sign on the window of one of the bars we passed.” Chris winks at him.

Darren laughs loudly enough to attract the attention of people four tables away.

*

Darren insists on calling his driver to get Chris back to his hotel.

Chris can’t say he’s all that sad, since his lack of familiarity meant walking was out and he isn’t quite brave enough to ride the trains on his own.

This also means he gets an extra twenty minutes with Darren, and the privacy of a car means Darren holds his hand and sits a little closer.

When they pull up in front of the hotel, Chris makes to move away but Darren doesn’t let go of his hand yet.

“Wednesday, right?” Chris asks.

“Yeah.” Darren smiles at him and lifts Chris’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll text you.”

*

Chris practically floats up to his hotel room. The girls must have decided to test their wingman skills because instead of sharing with Ashley like he’d planned he finds her bag gone when he opens the door.

Part of him would really like a little bit of girl talk right now, just to get the giddiness out but mostly he’s relieved.

He changes into pajamas and when he comes out of the bathroom, his phone is lit up with a missed call and a text message. He almost trips over himself checking it.

_Sweet dreams, Chris. xo -D_

He doesn’t reply to it but he still falls asleep with his phone clutched between his fingers.

Tuesday is sort of a blur of tourist stuff, spending too much money on good food, and living for the moment that his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

It takes Ashley about an hour to realize that Chris is texting someone almost nonstop, and about half a second after that to guess who it is. 

Chris tries for plausible deniability but he doesn’t think he makes it very far. “It’s just someone I work with.”   
  
“Like anyone at that shit-tastic magazine you deign to write for recognizes your brilliance.” Ashley says, leaving Chris slightly in awe of the way she can make a compliment still sound like an insult. “That’s lover boy.” 

  
Darren:   
_You’re seeing a show today right?? I told you, it's a must._  
  
Chris:   
_Maybe._ _We’re going to try and get cheap tickets._   
  
Darren:   
_Fuck that noise. How many people with you?_  
  
Chris:   
_Three of us..._  
  
Chris doesn’t hear back from him for a while, but when he does it’s a message telling him to go by the box office of one of the biggest shows running right now. His heart flutters and he knows what Darren has done, but doesn’t say anything to the girls right away.   
  
When they get there, there’s an envelope with his name scrawled on it waiting. His fingers tremble slightly when he opens it to find three of the most expensive tickets. He almost drops them.   
  
Ashley yanks them out of his hand. “Whoa.”   
  
Chris:   
_For someone that isn’t allowed to sweep me off my feet, you’re doing a pretty good job anyway._   
  
Darren:   
_I try. ;)_  
  
*   
  
A long stretch of hours pass with no contact, but Chris doesn’t mind. He’s coasting on the amazing show, the amazing dinner afterward, and having fun with his friends in this  amazing city.   
  
They stay out later than they intend just walking around, getting frozen yogurt and taking ridiculus pictures of each other. On an impulse, Chris sends the one he’d had Ashley take of himself in front of the theater to Darren.   
  
Darren:   
_Sight for sore eyes... so you’re still up?_   
  
Chris looks at the time readout on his phone.   
  
Chris:   
_It’s only midnight... I might have said I was an old soul, but I’m not actually geriatric..._   
  
Darren:   
_LOL_  
  
Darren:  
_I’m about to perform some magic. A disappearing act. W_ _ant to get a drink?_

  
Chris stops walking, but remembers to start again when someone impatiently shoulder checks him.   
  
Chris:   
_We were on our way back to the hotel..._   
  
Darren:   
_Meet you there?_   
  
Chris wonders exactly how wise it is for Darren to be spotted in a hotel lobby with a guy at midnight. He glances over at the girls.   
  
Chris:   
_Okay if my friends are there, too?_   
  
Darren:   
_Hmm... as long as I still get a hug goodnight._   
  
“Do you guys want to meet Darren for drinks at our hotel?” Chris asks.   
  
Both girls stop and turn to him. “You little sucka’, did you really just ask if we want to meet Darren fucking Criss for goddamn drinks? Why are we still standing here?”   
  
It occurs to Chris that Darren and Ashley will probably actually get on really well.   
  
*   
  
His hunch was right. Darren and Ashley  _do_ get on well. The tense lines around Darren’s mouth and eyes fade into lines of laughter within the first twenty minutes of him joining them.   
  
Chris thinks (hopes) that maybe the fact that Darren had squeezed into the little booth beside him might have something to do with it, too, but Darren and Ashley definitely dominating the conversation.   
  
Chris doesn’t mind. It gives him more time to look, to watch Darren while he talks. He’s wearing a suit but his tie is off (Chris suspects stuffed into a pocket) and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone.   
  
He looks... really hot. And suddenly it’s really hard for Chris to ignore the fact that he’s definitely jerked off over some of Darren’s more risque photoshoots in the past.   
  
(He also really hopes that what he’s thinking about isn’t as blatantly broadcasted in his expression as he fears it is.)   
  
“Oh, she’s a total sweetheart as long as you don’t cross her. Those claws come out, and no mercy.” Darren is giving Ashley some dirt on his fellow cast members.   
  
Chris doesn’t actually watch the show, he just finds Darren’s scenes on youtube.  
  
“Knew it,” Ashley says, looking triumphant. “Okay, now you gotta tell me what she does when someone crosses her.”   
  
Darren laughs. Chris is prepared to jump in if Ashley’s questions get a little too intrusive or Darren starts to seem annoyed, but if anything he just seems amused.   
  
He also seems to be feeling a little bold, because he drapes his arm across the back of the booth as he talks.   
  
When Darren turns to catch the waiter’s eye and signal another round, Ashley raises an eyebrow at Chris. Chris looks away.   
  
“Actually, I think my girl and me need to be getting to bed,” Ashley says.   
  
“Oh, really?” Darren looks at Chris and frowns. “You, too?”  
  
Ashley is giving him a death glare. Chris is pretty sure there will be dire consequences if he  doesn’t stay.   
  
“I can stay for another drink,” he says.   
  
Darren smiles and his fingers squeeze around Chris’s shoulder. “Good.”   
  
*   
  
Once the girls are gone, Darren (regrettably) moves his arm but he turns to face Chris. “So you had fun today?”   
  
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Chris says. “The tickets? But the show was... it was incredible.”   
  
Darren looks so boyish when he grins, ducking his head a little. “Good. I’m glad. I wish I could have gone with you.”   
  
“So how was your day?” Chris asks, matching Darren’s posture with his body angled toward him.   
  
Darren makes a face, something akin to a five year old biting into a lemon. “I got paraded around, played a couple pre-chosen, politically correct, environment appropriate tunes for some rich old lady, was forced around with this ditz that didn’t know what end was up... shit, nah, she doesn’t deserve me taking that out on her, she was nice. Nice girl, just. I don’t...”   
  
“Just don’t like girls?” Chris teases.   
  
Darren laughs. “Yeah. Wow. I can say that with you, can’t I? That’s nice. Forgot what that was like. Man, even my friends are just - it’s not like they’re buying into something on purpose, they just follow my lead, but it sucks. They’re afraid to even joke around with me anymore. I like not having to pretend with someone.”   
  
“They were your friends before you were famous, though, right?” Chris knows from interviews, from the youtube stuff he’s watched, and more importantly from Darren’s own stories on the plane. “So if you start being more honest with yourself, they’ll probably follow your lead with that, too.”   
  
“I know.” He looks guilty. “It’s shitty that I’m so scared about giving up this whole lie, isn’t it? I know what I want, but sometimes it’s great, too.”   
  
“No one is going to make you come out.” Chris is talking off the top of his head, and he just hopes that when he’s done it all makes sense. “You make your own timeline. Be sure you’re ready before you do it, but don’t hold back just because you think you have to, either.”   
  
Darren stares right at him with a little smile on his face, sort of wondering. “You’re saying exactly what I tell myself, but somehow it actually makes me feel better when you say it.”   
  
“Yeah, funny how that works, isn’t it?” Chris asks.   
  
Darren leans in and for a split second Chris is positive he’s about to be kissed. Then Darren pulls back and looks around. “Shit, it’s almost two. I need to grab some sleep, I’ve got a photo shoot and an interview thing before we have lunch tomorrow.”   
  
Chris is disappointed, both to say goodbye and because part of him had wondered if this late night get together was going to end in his room. “I should get some sleep, too.”  
  
“Let me walk you up,” Darren asks. “You owe me a hug, remember?”   
  
Chris grabs his jacket. “I remember.”   
  
*  
  
The hallway that Chris is staying on is deserted. Darren leans against his door, studying Chris with a careful expression.   
  
“You know if we’re actually saying goodnight, I’m going to need to get in there.” Chris gestures down at the doorknob.   
  
Darren pouts. “I’m not ready to say goodnight.”   
  
Oh, God, every time Chris thinks he can’t possibly feel more like a teenage girl...   
  
He tries to cover it. “Of course not. You haven’t had your hug yet.”   
  
“Oh, right.” Darren grins and straightens up, holding his arms out. Chris steps into them.   
  
A hug from Darren is better than a lot of kisses Chris has had. A hug from Darren is a full body thing, tightness and pressure and  _wow_ _he smells good_ and  _is he nuzzling me I think he is_  and Darren even sighs a little, rocking them back and forth.   
  
Chris is pretty sure he could happily never let go, but eventually Darren does step back. “Lunch tomorrow? Around one? I have a place I want to take you. Doesn’t matter where you are, I’ll have my driver so we can just pick you up.”   
  
“Yeah, text me.” Chris says. Darren takes a step back and they switch spots, Chris leaning against the door with his key card in his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”   
  
Darren reaches out and squeezes his other hand briefly. “See you tomorrow.”

Chris gets a message at half past nine the next morning asking for an all clear. 

He picks up the phone and calls Ashley back instead of responding with a text of his own.   
  
“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” He asks. He’s showered and dressed but still barefoot with his hair not done yet, flopping over his forehead in that too-young looking way he hates.   
  
“Uh, because I was hoping you got some A-list booty last night?” Ashley says. “You disappoint, son.”   
  
“Well, I’m so sorry to not live up to your expectation of loose morals,” Chris shoots back dryly. “I’ll try harder next time.”   
  
“Damn straight,” Ashley says. “Or damn all-kinds-a-gay.” 

Something occurs to him. “You know you can’t tell anyone, right? About hanging out with Darren? Oh please say you didn’t-”  
  
“Chill, we kept it hush,” Ashley promises. “No twittin’ it til you’re hittin’ it.”   
  
“Okay, you can stop that now.”   
  
“You know you love me for puns.”   
  
“No, I love your for that sexy ass,” Chris says. “The puns are just bonus.”   
  
“Well, get down to breakfast if you want to see this sexy ass in person.”  
  
“I can be down in ten minutes,” Chris says. Then he remembers he’s seeing Darren in a few hours. “... maybe twenty.”  
  
*  
  
“It’s not a date,” Chris says.   
  
He and Ashley - left alone for breakfast since their other friend wanted to sleep some more - have been going through the same circular argument for the past twenty minutes.   
  
“It’s so a date. Boy was making those high school eyes at you all night long.” Ashley waves a french toast stick speared on her fork in his direction.   
  
“He just needs a friend right now.”   
  
“Really? You really think so? Because twitter tells me that he current has-” She taps against her phone and pulls up the page. “- about one million one hundred and fifty thousand or so people that would just looooove to be his friend.”   
  
“He can’t be himself with crazed fans.”   
  
“And what exactly is your desktop background on your work computer?”   
  
“Um.” Chris remembered to change his phone background, but he hadn’t been able to part with the wallpaper. “Shut up.”   
  
Ashley laughs. “Look, I am all for this, okay. You need to have some fun, and I bet that man would treat you  _right_ .”   
  
“It would be complicated, though.” Chris can’t deny that he hasn’t thought about it... that he hadn’t spent half the previous night thinking about it.   
  
“ Honey, I said fun, not a marriage proposal. You  _can_ just have a casual thing, you know that? You are allowed.”   
  
Chris knows. He knows, and he  has , but he doesn’t share everything with her.   
  
One of those things he chooses not to share is that he _doesn’t_ actually think he can have a casual fling with a guy he’s halfway in love with, even if it is an idealized Hollywood sort of love... not when he’s realizing that what’s under the polished and produced, carefully constructed surface is even more attractive.   
  
So instead he huffs and says, “It’s not a date.”   
  
*  
  
It’s definitely a date.   
  
Everything about it screams date. The way Darren keeps cutting his eyes over at Chris to make sure Chris is enjoying himself, the way Darren puts a hand on the small of his back as he leads him around a corner. It’s under the pretense of guiding Chris in the direction then need to be in, but the touch lingers and ends with a faint pressure before the hand falls away.   
  
“Oh, we’re here,” Darren announces. “Come on, this way.”   
  
Darren leads them to the end of a long line.   
  
Chris’s brow furrows. “A food truck?”   
  
“Uh, only the  _best_ food truck in like, the whole fucking city.” Darren grins. “So we’re gonna get us some tasty lamb and rice, and we’re gonna go chill in Central Park and enjoy this fine weather we’re having, okay?”  
  
Chris can’t do anything  but smile back at Darren’s enthusiasm. “That sounds great.”   
  
*   
  
They eat sitting on a rock, the sun warm without being suffocating and the breeze just nice enough to ruffle Darren’s curls adorably without threatening the stability of their tin plates.   
  
When they’re finished Darren grabs Chris’s and throws it away, then tugs him up by the hand.   
  
“Want to walk?” Chris blurts out, because he’s not ready for this to be over and he’s not sure what other direction it could go in.   
  
“Yeah, absolutely.” Darren spins around and picks a random direction. “That way?”   
  
Chris laughs. “Sounds fine with me.”   
  
They walk side by side, arms brushing. “I’d hold your hand if I could.”   
  
Chris flushes. “I know.”   
  
But Darren keeps going. “And I’d stop, and kiss you against a tree. Then I’d drop to my knees and sing to you.”  
  
“What would you sing?” Chris asks quietly.   
  
“I don’t know, maybe... uhm... oh, I know.” Darren clears his throat and then softly begins to sing. “ _Say... wasn’t that a funny day... gee, you had a funny way, a way about you... a kind of glow of something new...”_  
  
He might not be on his knees crooning it for everyone to see, but that doesn’t make it any less impactful.   
  
Chris has been pretty sure all his life that swooning was just a thing made up for cheesy movies and romance novels, but if it is a real thing he’s pretty damn close to doing it. Darren’s voice fades out after the first verse.   
  
“Wow,” Chris says. “I- I haven’t heard that. Is it new?”   
  
“Yeah, something I’m working on.” Darren does that bashful eyes thing, but all it really does is serve to remind Chris how ungodly long and gorgeous Darren’s eyelashes are. “It’s not done. I started it the other night, after I met this guy on a plane...”   
  
“Oh my god.” Chris’s jaw drops, lips parting in disbelief. “You did  not write me a song.”   
  
He thinks Darren might  actually be blushing. “Well, it’s not done yet.”   
  
“I can’t believe you.” Chris glances around and he knows it’s risky (for Darren), he knows it’s impulsive and he shouldn’t, but he presses a kiss to Darren’s cheek then quickly starts walking forward. .   
  
Darren’s stays a few steps, calling out, “A kiss for just one verse? What do I get when it’s finished?” before he hurries to catch up.   
  
*  
  
“I’m booked all day tomorrow but I’m cutting out early Friday and doing another that night. It’s not really advertised, I’m just gonna tweet it on Friday and see who shows up,” Darren says. They’re walking more or less in the direction of the hotel. “Those are the best, man. Just me and the fans. That’s invigorating, that’s when it feels like I’m really  doing something, you know? Television is great, well, I mean. Great paying, and it gets my name out there, but...”   
  
“But music is what you love,” Chris finishes.   
  
“Yeah, exactly.” Darren smiles. “So you want to come?”   
  
“I’d love to.” Chris remembers something. “You were great the other night, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”   
  
“Yeah?” Darren looks pleased. “Awesome. I’ll get them to reserve you a table this time.”   
  
“Will you sign my ticket stub, too?” Chris teases.   
  
“Please, like you aren’t taping that to your fucking mirror when you get home.”   
  
“Right alongside my other one.” Chris says. It’s a halfway confession. There’s nothing taped to his mirror, but he has seen Darren in concert before.   
  
“For real?” Darren asks.   
  
“Nosebleeds,” Chris confirms. “But you were still amazing.”   
  
“As always.” Darren playfully smooths his shirt down. “But I’ll have some extra incentive to shine Friday night.”   
  
They’re in front of Chris’s building.   
  
“Do you have to go?” Chris asks. There’s a faint tremor of nerves in his voice.   
  
“No,” Darren answers.   
  
Chris hopes they’re having the same conversation here. He steps into the lobby and Darren seems to hesitate, but then he follows after.   
  
*  
  
Inside Chris’s hotel room, things get a little more tense.   
  
Then Darren flops down onto the bed and kicks off his shoes. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, looking spectacularly normal and entirely delicious at the same time. Chris sits on the bed beside him and grabs the remote. “So, Mr. Darren Criss, Famous Television Actor. Are you a fan of bad reality tv?”   
  
“Um,  duh ,” Darren says, stealing the remote. It’s late afternoon, verging on evening. Their walk in the park had lasted hours, and Chris is glad the treadmill is a bulk of his workout routine and that he’s in great shape. “Real Housewives, or Say Yes to the Dress?”   
  
At the latter one Chris makes a face. “Really?”   
  
“Randy knows his shit! Shut up, don’t judge me. Stop it.”   
  
“I’m judging you,” Chris says. “Hard.”   
  
Darren elbows him.   
  
Chris elbows back, and then they stop like that, arms touching. Darren puts it on Real Housewives and then sits up, piling pillows together. “C’mon. Cuddle time.”   
  
Chris re-settles into the curve of Darren’s shoulder. “So you’re a secret cuddler, are you?”   
  
“Yes. That’s my shameful tabloid fodder. I’m a closet-cuddler.”   
  
“Well, technically...” Chris snickers. “You’re more like a closeted cuddler.”   
  
“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Darren laughs. Chris shifts more onto his side, so that their heads are both resting on the same pillow and Darren is right in his eyeline.  
  
His heart and his stomach both start doing a metaphorical little dance. This is it, this is the moment. Darren is staring right at him. Chris licks his bottom lip without realizing it, moistening the skin. Darren’s eyes never leave his face but they dip down to watch.   
  
“I really want to kiss you,” Darren says.   
  
He’s so close that Chris can feel the breath warm on his skin. He wants it so bad it hurts, he can practically feel the kiss already. 

“Why don’t you stop telling me what you want to do, and actually do it?” Chris challenges him, smiling.   
  
But Darren doesn’t.   
  
Instead, he pulls away. “I can’t.”  
  
“Why not?” Chris is breathless, almost whining. His fingers curl into Darren’s shirt, the hoodie string tangling between hsi fingers. “I want you to.”   
  
It’s Darren’s turn to close his eyes. “Fuck, Chris. Don’t look at me like that,” he pleads.   
  
“I don’t understand.”   
  
“I can’t kiss you. I can’t be that asshole that takes someone and puts them into a situation they didn’t ask for.” Darren lowers his head, forehead pressing against Chris’s shoulder. Chris isn’t sure what to do, so he puts a hand in Darren’s hair - which is just as perfect to touch as Chris had imagined, mostly free of product and soft and silky. He scrunches his fingers through it, petting reassuringly because he can tell Darren is working something out. “I don’t know what I am doing and this is literally like, the worst time  ever to get involved with someone. I’d be ushering you right into the middle of a shitstorm without boots or an umbrella. I can’t do that to you.”   
  
“What if I want you to?” Chris asks.   
  
Darren shakes his head and pulls back, his entire body seeming heavier than before, weighted down. “I can’t.”  
  
It sounds depressingly final and Chris isn’t sure if he even has any grounds to argue, because Darren might be right. Chris has no idea how things like this work, he just knows that it feels like he’s losing something right now before he’s even really had it.   
  
Five minutes later, he’s closing the door behind Darren as Darren leaves.

Chris sends Ashley a message to say that they can go out without him that night.    
  
He mopes, of course. He does quite a bit of moping, actually. He mopes, and checks his phone every five minutes in case Darren messages him. He actually does watch the rest of the Real Housewives marathon, but there’s no one there to laugh at him when he makes cutting sarcastic comments out loud.    
  
It sucks.    


*  
  
The next morning, Ashley seems to know something is up but she uses her best friend mind-reading abilities for good and not crudeness for once.   
  
She gets him a large Diet Coke and directs their trip to the natural history museum.   
  
This is one of the things Chris had been looking forward to most. He honestly tries to have a good time, but the littlest things throw him off. One of Darren’s hits from the previous year is playing loudly as a young girl’s ringtone, there are posters for his show in the subway stations - including one with his gelled back hair and plastered on smile - and, worst of all, his voice echoing in Chris’s head, the sad way he’d said goodbye like he’d actually meant it.   
  
He doesn’t hear from Darren all day long, and he’s not brave enough to send the first text.   
  
*  
  
On Thursday night, Ashley decides that Chris needs to get really, really drunk.   
  
So he does.   
  
*   
  
Friday starts with a whimper, and ends with a bang.   
  
They huddle together over a greasy diner breakfast lamenting hangovers and making plans to keep the day mellow. They’re flying out Saturday afternoon, but at different times. Chris boards his plane to Los Angeles just after three.   
  
It’s later in the day when Ashley decides she’s had enough. She gets him alone and pokes him violently in the shoulder. “I don’t know what happened. That’s your business, boo. But you gotta stop with the frowny face, okay? This is our last day here and you’re killing the buzz.”   
  
Chris sighs and leans against a wall. “He doesn’t want to get involved because of his situation right now.”   
  
To her credit, she doesn’t (or doesn’t have to) ask what the situation is. She just rolls her eyes. “That’s it? Damn, I thought he hit it and took off before the wet spot was dry or something. Seriously? Get your act together, kid. You are hot shit. Get your seduction on.”   
  
“Ashley, I can’t seduce him. He’s-”   
  
“Christopher, listen to me: it is not that hard for you to get laid.”   
  
“I don’t just want to sleep with him, though,” Chris admits. “Ash, I _like_ him.”  
  
“He’s some dude that is totally into you and has spent the past week charming the pants off you? Yeah, man, between the concert invite, the show tickets, and the date - he’s just not giving you an in, is he?” Ashley rolls her eyes. “For someone smart enough to write damn books, you sure dumb.”  
  
It takes a few minutes for her advice to really set in, but Chris knows she’s right. Darren obviously wants him, he just doesn’t think he can have what he wants right now.   
  
Maybe Chris just needs to convince him that he can. He picks up his phone and sends a message to Darren.   
  
Chris:   
_Is my name still on the list for tonight?_  
  
Darren answers back almost immediately.   
  
Darren:   
_Of course._  
  
*   
  
Chris shows up alone to the concert. It’s a smaller club than before, and he gets a drink right off to fortify his nerves. He thinks about asking for Darren, but decides he’ll wait until after. He sits in a table off to the side, close enough that he has a perfect view but not so close that Darren will be able to distinguish him from everyone else there.   
  
Darren seems perfectly on while he sings. He looks a little tired, but otherwise not unlike Chris has seen him in youtube videos in recent months. Except now Chris knows that the circles under his eyes and the way his smile doesn’t exactly light up isn’t just a trick of the camera, it’s that he is feeling everything he’s going through.   
  
Chris likes to consider himself an artist, but he’s creative in a different way. He pours his feelings into books and stories. Darren _sings_ them, and Chris has always felt a connection to Darren’s music but he never actually realized that the connection was to Darren himself, because Darren puts himself into every word he sings.   
  
The set seems to be wrapping up when he grabs his guitar again and says, “How about something new? Like, brand fucking new, even my producers haven’t heard this one yet. You guys get to tell me if it sucks or if you want to see it on the next album, okay? So be brutally honest.”  
  
The room jammed full of people goes wild. Everyone seems to have a phone in their hand, ready to record.   
  
Chris recognizes the song that Darren had started singing to Chris in the park with the first notes. It’s not as happy as he’d thought it would be; it’s melancholy, about fantasy and trying to hold on to a moment that’s passing.   
  
The audience loves it, screeching and screaming their joy. Chris is sure it’ll be an unofficial internet hit by the end of the weekend. People start to chant for more but Darren doesn’t come back out.   
  
*  
  
Chris waits. He’s not even sure if Darren will come back out, but he can spot Darren’s manager - the sour looking little man he’d argued with the night they’d gone for pizza - talking to a hulking guy in a suit. Chris is embarrassed to realize that he recognizes him from pictures online, and knows that the man is Darren’s personal security.   
  
He has to wait so long that Chris is afraid Darren might just have left, but he’s lucky. Darren doesn’t actually come out, but he does stick his head out the door, probably just looking for his ‘people.’   
  
He sees Chris instead. He looks panicky for a moment but then holds the door open and gestures for Chris to come with him. Chris puts his half-finished beer down on the bar and goes. He ends up following Darren down a darker hallway and into a little room. Darren’s guitar is on the couch and there’s a duffel bag by the floor with the clothes he’d worn during the concert haphazardly dumped on top of it.   
  
Chris takes in all the details because it’s easier than actually looking at Darren.   
  
“You actually came,” Darren says, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”   
  
“Well, you invited me...” Chris looks down. This is awkward. This is really awkward. “Should I not have?”   
  
“No, I wanted... uh. I wanted to see you, I just didn’t know if... um. I kind of blew it last night, didn’t I? I freaked out.” Darren groans.   
  
“Well, you did freak out,” Chris agrees. “But you didn’t blow it.”   
  
“I don’t have any fucking idea what I’m doing right now, Chris.” Darren says. There’s a note of warning in his voice. “And sometimes I do really stupid things without thinking.”   
  
“Like meeting a broke, struggling writer on a plane and making him fall for you?” Chris looks at him, feeling a little bit sick at putting it out there like that but ultimately glad to be the one saying it. If he’s rejected, then it’ll be outright this time. He’ll tuck his tail between his legs and go home with the weirdest story that he’ll _never_ share with anyone. “I can see how that would kind of be stupid.”   
  
“Fa-” Darren looks up at him then looks away, smiling even though he’s obviously trying not to. “Wow, really? Oh.”   
  
Chris rolls his eyes. “Like you didn’t know.”   
  
“Yeah, but. It’s just.” He’s not even trying to hide it now, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “It’s good to hear it. Even though I know I shouldn’t be happy.”   
  
Chris grabs him by the wrist and pulls his hand away. “Darren?”   
  
“Yeah?” Darren swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.   
  
“I’m going to kiss you now.” Chris steps forward, into Darren’s space. He watches as Darren’s eyes flutter shut and then he presses their lips together.   
  
It’s a sweet kiss, at first. Sweet and soft and almost chaste until Darren tilts his head a little and opens his mouth and Chris goes back in again, deeper, tongues brushing. Darren’s fingers curl into his hips and they both close the rest of the distance between them.   
  
The pull apart minutes later with the smack of damp mouths separating. Darren has to rock forward on his toes to press their foreheads together. “I think I could get used to that.”   
  
“Yeah?” Chris grins. His heart is soaring right now.   
  
And then Darren’s smile fades, and reality slams back into him. “But I can’t. Fuck, Chris.”   
  
“Why not?” Chris is exasperated now. “I know what I’m signing on for.”   
  
“How? You don’t even really know me. You think a week is long enough to really know if it’s worth it? If I’m worth it? You’re gonna have photographers all over you, people hounding you for quotes and info on me and people coming after your family and shit. It’s not fun, Chris.” Darren sounds more and more worked up the more he talks, so Chris stops him with another kiss. Darren relaxes into it eventually, but he’s shaking his head again as soon as Chris pulls away. “You don’t know if _I’m_ worth it.”   
  
“Well, then let me figure it out.” Chris feels the frustration mounting. He doesn’t know the right thing to say to change Darren’s mind.   
  
“Just... give me some time, okay? Let the shit hit the fan, once I make the announcement, and then we’ll see.” Darren’s voice is resigned, sort of bleak, like he thinks he already knows how it’ll turn out. “I just need to wait for the right moment to drop the bomb.”

“Right moment. Chris repeats in a dull voice. “Okay. So you don’t want to date me until some time has passed after you come out, but you also don’t know when you’re coming out.”   
  
“Chris...” Darren grabs his hand, pleading.    
  
Chris pulls his hand back. “I’m ready to try this now. Whether you’re ready to come out or not, that’s up to you, but I’m ready now. That’s all I can say to you, and if that’s not enough or you’re fixated with trying to spare my feelings, then that’s your problem. But I’m not going to just sit and wait until you’re ready. I just... I’m sorry. Good luck, okay?”    
  
It hurts to say it, and it hurts even more to turn and walk away after he says it, but Chris knows from experience that waiting and pining and  hoping would just lead to it hurting even worse.    
  
*   
  
Chris wakes up early the next morning.     
  
He showers, dresses, and packs all of his things back into his suitcase. He has breakfast with Ashley, who doesn’t say much but promises to take him out for a hardcore drunk night when she’s back in Los Angeles with him in a few weeks.    
  
He goes back to his room again. He sits on the bed and stares at the wall for a while, willing his phone to ring but knowing it won’t. He makes sure his various electronic devices are charged enough to get him through what will undoubtedly be a miserably long flight, and that his headphones and ipod are in the right pockets of his bag.   
  
He goes to the girls room to hug them and say goodbye and then he’s in a cab on his way to the airport. Even the city looks depressed this morning, clouds gathering and rain threatening. He makes it into the airport just before the downpour starts. The plastic backed chair he sits in is uncomfortable but he slumps with his head against the back and his most depressing playlist softly in his ears, low enough that he can hear the boarding call when it starts.    
  
On the plane, he gets a window seat beside a middle aged woman that instantly falls asleep. Chris turns his the volume on his ipod up higher and angles himself toward the window. He doesn’t look up again until something jostles him. He swipes at the pause button to stop the music and looks up.    
  
“-yeah, if you don’t mind trading, my seat is actually in first class-”    
  
The woman beside is up instantly, grabbing her carry on and moving.    
  
Chris watches in amazement as Darren slides into her seat.    
  
“So.” Darren clears his throat, looking over at Chris nervously. “Fancy meeting you here.”    
  
Chris yanks the headphones out of his ears. “What are you doing here?”    
  
“So,” he starts again. “Um. You kind of kicked my ass into gear last night, and I owe you a thank you. I did an interview this morning. It’ll hit the stands Monday.”    
  
There’s nothing but relief in Darren’s voice when he says it.   
  
“What?” It takes a little bit longer to sink in with Chris. “You- oh my god.”    
  
“Yeah.” Darren’s smile is even wider. “And, like I said. I owe you a thank you. So... think you might be free for dinner?”    
  
“Yes,” Chris says immediately. “When? But yes.”    
  
Darren laughs. “How about tonight? And then maybe breakfast tomorrow?”    
  
“Ohmygod.” Chris bites his lip. “Yes.”    
  
“Perfect.” Darren’s hand covers his, fingers sliding together in a grip that feels natural.    
  
Chris uses his free hand to reach down and drop his ipod into the front pocket of his messenger bag. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have better things to do on this flight. 


End file.
